His
very voice is like a ray of garish light entering a dusky, haunted
room. Things suggesting ghosts and hobgoblins become ridiculously
prosaic, and you are ashamed of yourself and your fears."
"Yes, yes," replied Mr. Kemble, yielding to irritation in his deep
perplexity, "the more matter-of-fact we are the better we're off.
I suppose the best thing to do is just to face what happens and
try to be brave."
"Well, papa, what's happened to annoy you to-night? Is this sick
man going to make you trouble?"
"Like enough. I hope not. At any rate, he has claims which I must
meet."
"Don't you think you can meet them?" was her next anxious query,
her mind reverting to some financial obligation.
"We'll see. You and mother'll have to help me out, I guess. I'll
tell you both when we get home;" and his sigh was so deep as to be
almost a groan.
"Papa," said Helen, earnestly pressing his arm, "don't worry.
Mamma and I will stand by you; so will Hobart. He is the last one
in the world to desert one in any kind of trouble."
"I know that, no one better; but I fear he'll be in deeper trouble
than any of us.
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